


chasing misfortune

by PreseaMoon



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: where on that day, Vergil returns to the manor after the fire settles.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	chasing misfortune

By the time Vergil reaches the manor the fire has long died out. The billows of smoke that beckoned him here have been reduced to curling wisps that die as they form. The moon is bright off-white in the sky, not full but close, and it illuminates the entirety of the yard, highlighting forgotten toys and ruined shrubbery. Although he sees no demons, he keeps one hand tight around the Yamato’s hilt to keep from shaking, focusing on its weight to steady his breath.

This is a mistake. This is a fool’s errand. This is asking for death after he has already escaped it by a hair’s breadth too many times this night.

But his heart has urged him here against the screaming of his instincts and blood.

There are things he has to know, in spite of the all consuming fear.

As he approaches the house the signs of demons are easier to see, indentations in the ground, claw marks. Blood, under the thick stench of smoke. 

The front door is half open. Vergil sidles through the space to avoid bumping it. Yamato gently knocks the door frame after he’s inside and he flinches, holds his breath, but nothing is there. Nothing seems to have heard. He takes a slow breath, trying to suppress the shudder that comes with it.

Do demons smell fear?

Vergil sniffles softly, takes another breath.

Furniture is broken, charred, and out of place, curtains are torn or reduced to ashes. Glass litters the floor. Vergil takes care to step over it as he makes his way to the staircase. As he goes up he keeps Yamato angled behind him so it won’t smack into the railing.

The scent of blood grows stronger with every step. It makes his heart thrum, his stomach churn, his head spin.

He tries to prepare himself. He knows what he’s going to find. He knew before he came here, and that’s why this is so irreparably foolish.

Why did he need to see for himself? What good is that? Surely his imagination is more than enough.

It’s not.

Not even close.

The sight is visceral. It renders him completely unable to breathe. He tries, and when his chest seizes he panics, has to catch the banister before he drops. Breath comes in a sudden burst, filling his lungs but it is much too fast and much too hard and he can’t look away.

There is a halo of blood. Her hair is splayed around her, sections stained red, but it doesn’t hide the emptiness of her eyes, the lack of color in her face, the blue in her lips. There are gashes down her back so deep he thinks he sees severed bones, and so much blood he can’t pick out the red of her shawl. Her arm is outstretched, too far, dislocated, almost torn off, reaching out to him but he was never here.

Vergil wants to scream but now that he’s breathing he can’t stop.

And then he’s on his hands and knees on the floor, retching and dragging his knees along the wood.

When he’s finally able to push himself up his vision swims except for the sight of her. He closes his eyes and it burns through his eyelids, vivid and gory and worse than reality. A betrayal from his mind that he can’t push away even after reopening his eyes. She’s rotting away in front of him.

He continues to look at her, miserably, and something in the back of his mind asks if it was worth it, if this is what he wanted so desperately to know.

The silence of the room mocks him. But then, in its stillness is a muted scuffling, and in his panic and fear and anger he calls out, demanding to know who’s there regardless of how careless it is.

In response, there’s more scuffling, but this time it’s brief and frantic. 

No demon appears.

Vergil stares at the wall across from him, trying to focus his hearing. There’s still nothing. The sound was definitely from somewhere nearby.

He glances to Dante’s room a short distance away. The door is opened. Is that where the sound came from?

He knows what he’s going to find, so he should walk away now and save himself the pain.

Then, he thinks on that sound again, how muffled it was, how frightened. Not wanting to attract attention. An image of his brother pops into his mind, covered in his own blood, with wounds that heal too fast as a demon feeds on him slowly.

Vergil clenches his jaw. He holds out his hands and with great focus, summons Yamato back into them.

If there’s a demon he’ll kill it. He’s already killed a handful. So it’s not a big deal now either. It’s not scary.

He rushes into the room on light feet, Yamato already partially unsheathed, but he’s met by nothing but an empty room. Demon’s have clearly been through it. Toys are crushed and the rug is askew. The bedding is torn. There’s soot that’s been smeared along the floor, making a circle around the room before exiting. There’s no blood, however, and also no Dante.

Vergil walks from one end of the room to the other, and when he passes the closet he can hear quick, muffled breathing from the other side.

Vergil stands in front of the doors, slow and dumb but nothing bursts out to kill him.

Neither do his instincts tell him he’s in danger, as he lets Yamato dissipate in his hands.

He doesn’t want to open it. He doesn’t want to find his brother dying on the other side.

Refusing to let himself think, Vergil yanks the closet doors open.

Inside is Dante. Terrified and cowering against the wall, but intact. The blood on his white shirt is only what was there earlier, and it’s not torn at all. There are tear tracks on his face, and his eyes are rimmed with red, still full of tears. 

They stare at each other in mutual disbelief, and then Dante’s face crumples. He sobs out “big brother” and launches himself at Vergil. Arms wrap so tight around his middle it hurts, but Vergil only settles his hands on Dante’s shoulders, letting him cry as relief floods his entire body.

Eventually Dante draws away, but then he’s grabbing at Vergil’s arm, trying to pull him into the closet with him. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding. We need to hide.”

“What are you doing?” Vergil asks back, resisting half-heartedly. “This isn’t the time, Dante. We need to get out of here.”

“Mom said to hide. She said to not leave. No matter what. We need to wait for her, so come on.”

The words stun him, although they shouldn’t, and as a result he ends up letting Dante pull him into the closet. 

Vergil sits in the middle and Dante takes his hands, shaking them lightly. “Vergil, where have you been? Did Mom find you? Did she tell you when she’d be back? Are you okay?” the desperation in his voice is too potent for Vergil to look at him.

“I… I was at the playground. Over the hills. I. It’s not my blood. Demon’s. I’m okay.”

“Mom—”

“How long have you been hiding?”

“Um.” Dante falls into a long silence as he thinks it over. “I don’t know.”

“Guess.”

“Hours? The sun was out.”

Vergil nods and finally looks at him. “We need to leave.”

“But—”

“Listen to me, please, Dante. We can’t stay here forever.”

Dante swallows. There are more tears in his eyes. Before he can speak, though, there’s a crash from downstairs, and Vergil rushes into his space to cover Dante’s mouth with his hands. They stay like that for long minutes. Pressed together this way, Vergil thinks he actually can smell his brother’s fear, and it’s a dizzying echo of his own.

When he thinks it’s safe he pulls his hands away and whispers, “It’s not safe. Mom’s,” he says, but can’t make himself say the rest. “I’m leaving, and you can come with me or not.”

“Don’t leave me,” Dante says in a rush, clutching on to him like Vergil’s already decided to do just that.

Vergil pushes away from him. “I’m not. I know you’re scared, but I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Dante’s tears spill over but he nods.

“I’m going to open the doors, okay?”

Dante nods again.

Once they’re out of the closet Vergil instructs Dante to grab a bag and pack it with anything important. While he does so, Vergil keeps watch. No demons have made their way upstairs, or this part of upstairs at least. He can hear them meandering below still, though. More than one maybe? He hopes not.

When he turns to see if Dante’s finished, he finds his brother with a large, packed bag on his back and their wooden swords in his arms. Vergil bites his tongue on telling him those aren’t going to help them much.

Vergil leads them to the door and stops right outside of it. If he turns his head to the right he will see their mother.

Dante is going to see their mother’s corpse.

He doesn’t know if he should try to hide it from him, if he should deprive him of that grief, spare him that horror.

“Dante,” he says, “give me your hand.”

His brother does so without question or complaint.

“We’re going to the left, okay? We’re going to go around to the far side stairs.”

“We’re not going to get things from your room, too?”

“We can’t. Okay?” He squeezes Dante’s hand.

Dante squeezes back. “Okay.”

They walk out of the room and turn left, but Dante still sees. Of course he does. Vergil knows the moment he does, with the way his hold on Vergil’s hand becomes a vise and he makes a small whimpering sound. Dante doesn’t ask, though, doesn’t say anything, and he allows Vergil to pull him farther and farther away. 

Before they start down the stairs Vergil turns to his brother. He’s crying, lip trembling. Their mother’s body can’t be seen from here, but that’s where his eyes are locked.

“Dante, are you with me?” After receiving a nod he says, “Good. I need you to be quiet. We’re going to sneak out the front door. Once we’re outside we’re running. To the gate. Past it. We’re not stopping until… we stop.”

Another nod. They take one step. Listen. Wait even after Vergil thinks it’s safe. Take another step. Repeat.

Vergil wishes he had Yamato in his other hand. With Dante, though, it’s not an option. He’s not going to let go of his brother’s hand. Even if he would, he’d be too distracted with Dante’s safety to fight. Plus, what if he changes form? And what if it scares Dante?

No, the only option here is to sneak and then make a run for it.

It shouldn’t be hard. Even with a demon lurking in the parlor. Dante’s breath hitches at the sight of it and he looks to Vergil. Its back is to them, but Vergil isn’t about to rely on that. He takes a fallen candlestick from the ground and throws it with all the strength he can muster into the hallway. There’s a loud noise as it comes in contact with a wall and the demon runs after it.

The moment it’s in the hall Vergil makes a break for it, running as fast as he can manage and dragging Dante along behind him.

They make it past the gate, past the playground, past the graveyard, down the path leading into town.

They run and run, and Vergil only starts to slow when the town’s lights are within reach. He ignores the questions Dante asks him about where they’re going and what they’re going to do. They have to find shelter for the night, everything else can wait until morning. The library crosses his mind and Vergil instantly dismisses the thought.

The sidewalks are empty. There are cars in the street, but none of them are moving. Too many streetlights are out. It’s eerie, but Vergil’s never been out at this time before.

But then he smells it, faint but tangy in the air.

Dante starts tugging his hand, saying his name, but by then Vergil’s already seen it. A dead body, ripped in half with its insides between the two halves. Beyond it is another, though in less gruesome shape.

Vergil pulls them into an alley as he tries to think what to do.

“Should we go to the police?” Dante asks.

“Police aren’t going to help us against demons.”

“Demon police, then?”

Vergil gives him a weary look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Vergil sighs. “Stay close.”

They continue down the street and don’t find a single person. They make their way down the street and don’t find a single person. There are cars in the street, but all of them are empty. Some of them are running and some have trails of blood that lead away but suddenly stop. There are buildings with broken windows and others that are untouched, but there doesn’t seem to be any pattern to them.

Every now and then, in the distance screams can be heard.

They try a few doors, but all of them are locked. Neither of them suggests going in through one of the broken windows.

Some time later they find themselves in a cinema parking lot. They try at least a dozen cars before they find one that’s unlocked. Vergil ushers Dante inside, and after they’ve made themselves comfortable on the backseat floor, Vergil notices a thin blanket over the top of the seats. He reaches up to grab it and arranges it so it’ll hide them from anyone or anything that might look through the windows.

Vergil sits with his back to the door and his legs crossed. Dante crosses his arms on the seat. For a moment he rests his head there, only to change his mind an instant later and instead flops onto Vergil.

“What do we do now?” Dante asks quietly, like they’re still hiding from demons in a closet.

“We get some rest.”

“After that.”

“I don’t know.”

Dante hums and snuggles closer to him. “Mom said… start a new life. As someone new. With a new name. A new beginning. I don’t want a new beginning, Vergil. I like our beginning. Vergil? Are you mad at me? I’m sorry for being a brat before.”

Vergil shakes himself out of his thoughts and catches up to what Dante’s just said. Then, he almost laughs, because Dante being bratty is such a nonissue right now.

Instead, Vergil hugs him and buries his face in Dante’s hair. “I don’t care about that.”

Dante is quiet. Then, he says, “Vergil, I’m scared.”

Vergil is too, but can’t bring himself to say so. It’s too much. If he says it he’ll break, and cry, and this is his time to be strong. Dad isn’t here, so it falls to him to look out for them.

“I know, but no matter what I’m going to take care of us.”

Dante turns around so he can wrap his arms around Vergil’s neck. “I’ll take care of us, too.”

“Get some sleep, Dante.”

“You, too.” Dante mumbles against his neck, already half-asleep.

Vergil leans back against the car door. Tomorrow is another day, their first alone, but they’ll face it together.


End file.
